


Cinnamon

by Kallanda_Lee



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Anal Fingering, Blow Jobs, Come Eating, Consent Issues, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Hurt, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Sex, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluffy Ending, HTP, HYDRA Trash Party, Healing Sex, Heterosexual Sex, Hurt Bucky Barnes, Hurt/Comfort, Kissing, M/M, Nerdiness, Oral Sex, Other, POV Natasha Romanov, PWP, Past Abuse, Past Rape/Non-con, Protective Natasha Romanov, Rape Aftermath, Rape Fantasy, Rape Recovery, Rough Oral Sex, Safeword Use, Safewords, Sex, Sexual Content, Thumb-sucking, Triggers, Vaginal Sex, Verbal Humiliation, Verbal Sex, functional relationship, rape re-enactment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-31
Updated: 2016-03-31
Packaged: 2018-05-30 09:50:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6419059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kallanda_Lee/pseuds/Kallanda_Lee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based on following prompt for the Hydra Trash party Meme (which is also your warning):</p><p>I'm craving 1. Bucky on top with Nat, and 2. Bucky describing his rapes as he fucks her. They could act them out a little, with either or both of them playing raped!Bucky ("They had you like this?" "Almost -- give me your wrists--"), but nothing too rough, please, the kink here is the verbal description. Something about Bucky being in the masculine, penetrative sexual role with a female partner while describing being vulnerable and violated is seriously doing it for me. </p><p>So the sexual history for BuckyNat I'm imagining is that Bucky was subjected to multiple brutal rapes and suffers from understandable sexual trauma, and Natasha wasn't and doesn't. I have a thing for Bucky having sexual triggers and needing to be careful in bed, so if any potential author could figure out how to work that in even while he's graphically describing his own rapes, I would be so happy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cinnamon

**Author's Note:**

> This story has triggering content in terms of explicit rape mention (even though current sexual encounter is consensual), so you are hereby warned.

Bucky had been kissing her for the better part of an of an hour - nuzzling, teasing, whispering sweet nothings into her ear. They were sprawled out over the double bed, soft sheets against their bodies, and no-one but them would realize this was not a luxury they had for most of their lives. She knew what this was about - the excessive show of affection, the almost apologetic gentleness - but it was genuine despite its elaborateness, and she enjoyed it all the same.  
  
He wrapped his rigt arm around her waist, and pulled her close, finally speaking the words she knew would inevitably come. "Are you sure about this, Natasha? It's okay to still say no."  
  
"I know," she replied. She cupped his face in her hands and smiled at him. "I don't _want_ to say no."  
  
Natasha had realized how far Hydra's abuse went a few months ago, not long after they started...well, whatever this was between them. The fourth time they had sex, she decided to be a bit more playful, to spice it up. It wasn't even really forceful - just a tug at his hair as he was going down on her. He had pulled away with lightning speed, panic in his eyes, curled up on the floor with his hands in a protective gesture. It didn't take a rocket scientist to put things together, after that.  
  
It was hard for him to talk about it, to look at her when he did. He always looked so guilty and embarrassed. So they had devised this plan. Talked about it for weeks. Here was to hoping it wouldn't blow up in their faces.  
  
They were both dressed in black, their buckles and straps reminiscing of the Winter Soldier's uniform - but not quite truthful enough to be mistaken for the real thing.  
  
He kissed her again, and it felt like a goodbye kiss, longing and lingering . "Tell me again what the words are," he asked, and although they had discussed this dozens of times, she'd humor him, because she knew how anxious he was. "Cinnamon means I'm at the limit of being comfortable, Saffron means stop altogether." She was almost convinced they wouldn't even need them - not for her, at least - because she knew he'd never intentionally hurt her. It was him she was worried about. He might just try to push past his limits. She looked at him sternly. "And those go for you, too."  
  
He saluted her military-style, trying to be light-hearted, but his grim expression didn't match his body language. "Yes, Ma'am."  
  
She took his flesh-and blood hand and pressed it against her chest, where her heart was beating, apprehensive but steady. "It's time, _mili moi_. Drawing it out won't make it easier. I'm ready."  
  
The movement came slowly at first, barely even threatening. She could stop it, with ease, should she choose to...but that would defeat the point. He grabbed her, rolling them both to the side, over the edge off the bed.  
He landed on top of her, pinning her down. She was flipped on her stomach and he grabbed her left wrist with metal fingers, twisting the arm behind her back.  
  
"Okay," Bucky said. "So the first time, was just after the found me. I was a POW prior to the Geneva convention, which means I was shit out of luck." Natasha could feel him breathing down her neck as she was lodged steadily between his muscular body and the floor. "The soldiers who found me just wanted to get some release. They hadn't been with a girl for months. They'd fuck anything."  
  
He pressed himself against her ass, and she could feel his erection growing against her buttocks. "I just lost my arm. I was hurt. Had broken bones. Didn't stand a chance to defend myself." He grabbed her belt and undid it one-handed, then pulled down her pants. She felt the cool air and the rough fabric against freshy-exposed skin, and wondered if that was anything like it had been for him back then. Bucky unzipped his fly, taking his time, letting her know what was about to happen. She could hear him spit in his palm behind her, smell the musk of his arousal as his cock sprung free. Then, without warning, he forced himself inside her from behind. she cried out a little, more from surprise than pain. Bucky was generously endowed, especially after the serum - and while that was actually one of the things she rather enjoyed, it took her some time to adjust to the intrusion.  
  
"I was shocked," Bucky continued. "Maybe I was naive, but I never thought that could happen to a man. They were rough with me. They both held me down as the first one just stuck it in me, not caring how much it hurt."  
  
Natasha could feel Bucky's fingers digging into her hips, and that would bruise by morning, but she did not care. He was fully erect now, his cock throbbing inside her, then pulling almost all the way out, only to fuck into her again. "First I thought it was a form of torture, that they did it to interrogate me, but there were no questions."  
  
"Let me go," she tried her dialogue. "I am a prisoner of war. Barnes, James Buchanan, Sergeant, 32557038. They are coming to rescue me."  
  
"No, they are not," he said with a voice she had never heard him use before, "No-one knows you're even alive. Nobody's coming for you."  
  
She felt the need and desperation in his every move - in the way he held her, the way he moved inside her. Even now, she didn't quite _understand_ how this worked for him, what he was getting out of it - but if it worked, gave him even the slightest bit of release or comfort, she wanted to give it to him with every fiber of her being.  
  
"So I begged, I screamed, I cried," he confessed, his voice breaking. "I'm not proud. I felt so dirty. Violated. I think they liked my tears.  
  
"Please have mercy," she begged, changing her tone. "I'm a virgin there. Please, anything but that. I'll do anything. Take it out. _Take it out._ "  
  
"Hmm, a virgin?" he said mockingly. "So that's why you're so nice and tight. Today must be my lucky day."  
  
She feigned a sob and maybe that was too realistic, because he stopped in his tracks.  
  
"You don't need to hold back, my love. I can take it harder," she whispered.  
  
With that he sunk all the way into her, filling her entirely, knocking the air out of her.  
  
"Keep your arm behind your back," he commanded, and she obeyed. He switched hands, grabbing her right wrist and pushing it to the floor.  
The arm stuck between their bodies could feel his heartbeat, feel his breathing. It was erratic and jagged, and the sob she heard from him was very much _not_ feigned. For a brief moment he nuzzled her neck, and she could feel his tears on her skin.  
  
"I struggled," he whispered into her ear.  
  
"Like this?" she asked and tried to free her right arm from his grip.  
  
"No. More. _Much more_."  
  
She strained against him now, arm and back and legs, trying to get up, pull free, but failing. He was putting his whole body weight into it. The metal arm pulled her up on her knees, bending her over on herself, positioning her in a good angle for penetration. Her knees chafed against the carpet, and her cheek was pressed against the floor. It was uncomfortable, and impossible to free herself from. She wondered what that must have been like for him - cold, hurt and alone - having far worse done by strangers. He set a rhythm, pounding into her - long hard strokes, owning her body.  
  
"Look at you," he said. "You don't fool me. Fight all you like. I know you want it, American whore. You act like you own the world, but you're ready to bend over when it comes down to it." She just remained there, ready for use, as he'd once have been, accommodating his dick best as she could.  
  
"So then," he continued his story, "the other one put a gun to my head, and his dick to my lips. Told me he'd put a bullet in my brain if I'd bite. I considered the bullet, but I...I...I wanted to live. _I'm sorry._ "  
The apology, she knew, was not for her. He let go of her hips and wrist, and placed his metal fingers against her temple, thumb and index finger replicating a pistol. While still inside her, he reached over, held her face in his right hand, and pressed the thumb again her mouth.  
  
"Open," he ordered.  
  
She let her mouth fall open and his thumb was pushed inside.  
  
"Now suck."  
  
She did her best, treating it as if it were a cock. She was quite good at it, and she could tell the ministrations of her mouth and tongue went straight to his dick, because he was twitching and throbbing inside her, feeling like he was close to release.  
  
"I wasn't that good," he told her. "Not yet. I learned that later. But I did what I needed to stay alive."  
  
And _Bozhe moi_ was it wrong that this aroused her on some level? Every sensation seemed to get mixed in. The feeling of him inside her, stretching her in a pleasant way. The vulnerability of her position. The almost primal comfort her lizard brain took in the thumb-sucking. The sharp sting of anger at who did this to him.The raw desperation of it all. It was all jumbled together, wrecking her body with waves of unfiltered emotion.  
  
"Please stop", she begged again. "It hurts so much. You'll tear me open. I can't...I can't take anymore."  
  
And maybe that wasn't entirely a lie, though her body was perfectly fine, she ached for him in ways she never thought she could ache for someone else. And she didn't know whether to laugh or to cry, because that was a blessing for her, to feel this much for someone. There was a time she didn't think she could.  
  
He ripped away part of her shirt, exposing her shoulder, biting it more gently than it would have been for him - not to hurt but to claim.  
  
"Take my cock," he grunted, " _take it_ , you disgusting American dog."  
  
He grabbed onto her tighter, trembling, coming inside her with a sob. She was held in place until the waves of his orgasm subsided, and he filled her with his load. Even now, his erection did not subside; she could still feel his hardness inside her.  
  
"They didn't stop," he told her softly. "They took turns on me for hours, then many times over the next few days, leaving me in a cold cell between use. Didn't even bother the clean me of blood and semen. By the time Zola got to me and started the medical tests, it felt like a blessing.  
  
He released her and pulled out with a squelching sound. She pushed herself up, her first instinct being to hold him. He was kneeling behind her - half-dressed, face flushed and tear-streaked, head bowed - and she'd never know how to tell him, but he was so beautiful to her right now.  
  
She reached for him, but he stopped her hand mid-air.  
  
"Don't. I'm filthy."  
  
She pushed through his defenses stubbornly and pulled him into an embrace.  
  
"Idiot. You're _perfect_."  
  
"Liar."  
  
"Not today."  
  
He finally pulled his arms around her and reciprocated the hug. She stroked his sweaty hair and kissed his tear-streaked cheek. "You want more, my love, or stop it here?"  
  
"More," he breathed, his voice coarse and cracked. If you can bear it... _more, please._ "

"Okay. Show me."  
  
He composed himself and wiped his face with the back of he hand, then lifted himself back up on the edge of the bed. When she wanted to follow, he stopped her.  
  
"You stay there."  
  
He kicked off his pants and positioned himself on the edge of the bed, legs apart.  
  
"Now Rumlow," he said, "Rumlow was the guy who really got off on making me suck his cock."  
  
He motioned to a spot on the floor before him, and she moved to kneel between his thighs, looking up at him expectantly. He was still half-hard, and she knew what was coming next. Despite their positions, she could tell he still very much deferred to her. His eyes were seeking permission for what he was about to do. She gave him the smallest of nods, and he was perceptive enough to notice.  
  
The fingers of his right hand moved to stroke her hair, but then twisted around the red locks, and pulled tight, pulling her face closer to his crotch.  
  
She recognized what this was. The position was so close to what had caused him to panic when it was the other way around, and she now knew with soul-crushing certainty what had caused it.  
  
"By that time I was very good at it," he explained. "Decades of training. Always ready to serve".  
  
He pressed the tip of his cock against her lips.  
  
"C'mon, pet, we haven't got all day."  
  
She recognized the accent, and it wasn't his, and goddammit that was creepier than she expected it to be. He fed her his cock, and when she took him in her mouth, the half-hard flesh filled up immediately, swelling until the girth strained her lips. He moved his hand to the back of her head, holding her in place. She could taste herself on him, smell both his and her arousal.  
  
"The man's a pig," Bucky said. "He liked making me suck him after missions, when he was sweaty and dirty, knowing I couldn't say no."  
  
He fucked her mouth while holding he head in position, and it was rough, and she could feel the contained anger in his muscles, but also the restraint, knowing he had been treated far worse than he'd ever do to her. She did her best to make it pleasurable for him - physically, at least, because she didn't know what was going on in that head of his right now.  
  
"Hmm, good boy. You know what I like. Keep it up and I'll even let you have lube later."  
  
She was trembling, and balling her fists - not from anything Bucky was doing, but from the sheer anger at the thought that this man was still alive and breathing. The cock in her mouth hit the back of her throat a few times, and it made her gag a little, making an unflattering sound.  
  
"He liked that," Bucky said, "making it hard for me to take. Making it hard stay obedient. So he could punish me when I failed."  
  
She looked up at him, meeting his eyes, deliberately taking as much of him as she could in her mouth of her own volition, letting him know it was okay to continue what he was doing.  
  
"Oh baby, _look at you_. It's true what they say. You're the best cocksucker Hydra has."  
  
The way he held her wasn't painful, but it was unrelenting, making her take more inches than could rightfully fit. His cock forced itself in the back of her throat, slow but deliberate strokes, making her deep-throat him whether she liked it or not.  
  
It wasn't awful, actually. Despite her own training, she wasn't really the submissive sort - though she played it well, if it served her purpose. Under normal circumstances, there has always been something incredibly satisfying about giving Bucky pleasure - a gratitude in him that made it both endearing and rewarding, and she tried to connect to that feeling now.  
  
She could feel him letting go, getting lost in his head, tapping into whatever memory he needed for this. He pulled her down on his cock fully, and she didn't even know she could take so much but she did, until she found herself running out of oxygen and reluctantly pushed him off, gasping for air.  
  
He snapped back from wherever he was with horror on his face, already forming an apology on his lips, because he was a _good_ man despite what they did to him, despite what they had tried to make him into.  
  
She didn't want his guilt, it had no place here. Her reflexes could outmatch his when he was off-guard, so she rose up with assassin speed, and pushed him down on the bed.  
  
She removed the pants from her ankles with one swift move, then straddled him as she pulled his hair.Her fingers curled together in his dark locks, and she knew that was a risk, but she was going there anyway - because wasn't that the point? The look in his eyes was one of genuine fear, but he did not throw her off.  
  
"Cinnamon," he whispered, and she let out a nervous chuckle of emotional release and mouthed ' _thank you_ ', thank all she held dear that he actually said it, and she'd kiss him for that for _hours_ after this was through.  
  
" _Good boy_ , she praised him, and it was only half an act. "You're being so very good for me."  
  
She moved her hand from his hair to his throat, and pressed him against the mattress. And it was incredible yet disconcerting, those seven decades of training, because he went pliant under her touch instantly, his muscle memory returning him right back to submission and obedience.  
  
He looked at her and the sight was overwhelming - she knew in that moment she could have him do anything, and that power frightened her, with him.  
  
"Don't play coy," she said. "We both know you love cock."  
  
"Yes, Sir. I love it, Sir."  
  
When she tapped on his lower lip with her thumb, he took her in eagerly, and sucked on it expertly. He wasn't kidding about that. Someone had taught him well...and dammit, this was all so wrong, and it twisted her gut, but she also never wanted him to stop.  
  
She pulled out her thumb, and he gasped for air. His face was red from lack of air, and his lips looked swollen and absolutely sinful when he tried to form words again.  
  
"He liked...he liked making a show of it. Having me suck him off in front of the team. Sometimes he'd have another guy fuck me at the same time, and punish me if I so much as grazed him with my teeth."  
  
Bucky was still hard, erection straining again his belly, craving the very acts that had been used to defile him. She released his throat, and grabbed his cock, guiding it inside her. He gasped as he entered her. She was still wet from before, and it went more easily now, though she was still very much aware of its size inside her.  
  
"Should have known you like it up both holes at once, cockslut like you."  
  
"Yes Sir, I'm a slut."  
  
He made a pitiful whine as she rode him. She slapped his face, not hard, but domineering, making sure he felt owned.  
  
"Tell me how he punished you."  
  
"Depends", he said. "Stun baton up my ass was a favorite. Or beating my hole with his belt before fucking. Sometimes having the whole team fuck me dry."  
  
They were awful, the things he said, and part of it wanted her to end, but his arousal did not subside, and she set a heavy rhythm, fucking him like she meant it.  
To her surprise he actually reached for her hand and gently brought it to his mouth. He looked for her eyes, for her permission. "Please," he asked."May I suck you like the whore I am?"  
She wanted to say ' _Of course, sweetheart, whatever you want_ ', but that wasn't what he needed to hear right now. She put on her sternest face, and held her hand close, but too far for his lips to reach.  
  
"Let me hear you beg for it."  
  
"Sir ,please. Please, I need it. Put it in me. Put me in my place. Remind me what I'm for. Please fuck me. Please."  
  
It sounded pathetic and desperate, and it goddamn nearly broke her heart.  
  
She slipped her thumb back in, and he made little needy noises as he sucked while she fucked him, and it seemed like something peaceful came over him. He closed his eyes, and clearly seemed to enjoy what was happening, on some level at least. For a few minutes he was silent except for his little gasps and moans, until his breath hitched and she could feel him coming inside her again.  
  
He looked guilty in scared when he met her eyes again and released her thumb from his mouth.  
  
"He'd punish me," he told her, "for coming without permission. In fact he didn't like me coming at all. It was for his pleasure, not mine."  
  
That was a dilemma, now wasn't it? Because he'd expect that of her now, though she wasn't sure she wanted that dish it out. Yet here they were, and he still made no sign of wanting it to stop.  
  
"Get on all fours," she demanded, and hoped she would not regret it.

He obeyed instantly. There was an ease to it that told the story of the hundreds of times that came before. His muscles were as tight as they were when he was ready for battle, yet there was nothing threatening about his pose.  
  
She wiped some of his come from her thigh, and brought it to his lips. Without her even asking, he licked her hand clean.  
  
"That would not be punishment," he told her, "that would be a reward. Meaning I performed adequately".  
  
"Show me then,"she said as calmly as she could, pushing down anger and sadness,"assume position."  
  
He reached for the pillow, and put it under his head, resting his cheek on it. His ass was up and exposed, an unmistakable indication of what was supposed to come next. As if that was not enough, he spread his legs wider, feet turning inward, heels pointing to each other. He looked more precariously balanced like this, and nothing was hidden - she could see his buttcheeks spread themselves apart, revealing the pink ring of muscles that lay between them.  
  
"This was my position for punishment," he told her."Usually I was allowed something to bite on - or they'd muzzle me, because they didn't want me to lose my tongue if I screamed too hard." He clamped down on the pillow with his teeth, and looked up at her with a mix of fear and expectation.  
  
In that moment, she wanted nothing but to be gentle with him - and she tried to compartmentalize the that feeling, letting it go but making sure not to forget, promising herself she'd allow herself that later - and maybe that would be _her_ reward then.  
  
"Stay," she told him instead. "This will be easier if you don't resist."  
  
She pulled open the the bedside cabinet and and took out a small vial and a latex glove. The sound of her snapping it on made him shiver. For a moment, she studied her hand under the latex - nails still red but shorter than she usually kept them. She had cut them short when she first realized the sex might lead here, and she sort of liked it - a small reminder her hands were for touching Bucky now, whatever form that touch came in. She coated her fingers with lubricant generously, and he watched her with a strange weariness, and resignation in his eyes.  
  
"I would not be granted that mercy, for disobedience."  
  
"You're no good to me damaged, either," she said, and she thought if that was something Rumlow might say, but then decided it probably wasn't. He struck her as the sort of bastard who'd even endanger a mission to get his sadistic thrills.  
  
"So stun baton, she said." Her finger pressed against his sphincter, but didn't go in just yet. "Tell me how."  
  
"He'd just shove it in, really. He liked doing it in just one stroke. Then he'd wait, sometimes for minutes, until he turned it it, so I never knew exactly when the shock would come. Rinse, repeat, until he got bored."  
  
"Did you try to stop him?"  
  
"Not that I remember. I had long stopped fighting, then."  
  
She pushed her index finger inside him - and his statement, while not a lie, was not entirely true. His body was fighting her tooth and claw. He was tight, so very tight around her - every fiber of his being trying to expel the intrusion.  
  
He cried out, biting the pillow - and something changed in him that worried her. His eyes seemed to glaze over, and his whole body started to tremble.  
  
"Do you think that's pathetic? That I didn't fight? I was strong enough...I could have...I could..." He never finished the sentence, sobbing into the pillow. And that question, she knew, that was very much _not_ for Rumlow, but for her. The trembling worsened, and he was shaking under her like a man going into shock.  
  
" _Bucky_ , she said,hoping his name would snap him out of it, "Bucky, we don't have to do this."  
  
"I can take this. I can take this _for you._.." And holy shit, this was not something she was prepared for. Whatever was going on in that pretty head, it didn't seem to be about Rumlow anymore.  
  
She carefully touched his back, feeling him shiver at her touch. "Sweetheart, you don't have to do anything _for me_. This is for you, remember?"  
  
"Don't be absurd, sex is never _for me_."  
  
That was it - safeword or not, this was where she was calling it. Whatever this was doing to his head, she didn't like it, and she withdrew her finger gently. He winced at the feeling, but just a few seconds later she could feel his body relaxing, and the trembling subsiding. She discarded the glove and tossed it aside carelessly. She laid down on the bed next to him, and gently nudged his legs, guiding him out of his punishment position. He curled up beside her, and she just held his hand, waiting for him to come back to her.  
  
After a minute or two she felt his fingers curl around hers, and saw his eyes focus on her.  
  
"There's my Bucky," she said, and smiled at him.  
  
He returned the smile, but it was sad. "Not sure I can be. Yours."  
  
She squeezed his hand. "Does that bother you? The possessive terms? I can avoid them."  
  
"It's not that. I think I even like them, with you. But, there are parts of me that I might never be able to give you. See, I've belonged to so many people...some parts might no longer be mine to give".  
  
She brought his hand to her lips, and kissed the fingers affectionately. Then she turned to look at the ceiling, genuinely pensive. "I think..it's a different sort of belonging when it's mutual. When you want to belong." She thought about that, and the first time she had come to the realization was when the Avengers made her one of their own - she had felt the same feeling, like a puzzle piece fitting in. It was that way with him now, stronger even still, their bodies entwined like they were always meant to fit together. She felt his hand on her cheek and she turned to face him, blue eyes searching her face. He brushed his fingers over her lips, deliberately and extensively, as if he were trying to memorize how it felt.  
  
" _My_  Natasha," he said, like it was some sort of magic incantation, and lord knows she never wanted to break the spell. But she did need an answer - an answer to a question that would not let her go.  
  
"What happened, before? Did I hurt you?" She braced for the ' _yes_ ' she feared would inevitably come.  
  
He shook his head. "No...I think it's some sort of trigger, or conditioning more likely. Makes me...really submissive to the person, well...inside me."  
  
Dammit, that was even worse, wasn't it? Because with what he was saying, she could never be _sure_ , could she? Everything could be fine until he snapped right back to that place where she no longer knew that whatever they did was still consensual.  
  
"I'm sorry, I didn't know."  
  
"Hey, silly," he pulled her in his arms and nuzzled her neck. "Neither did I. Well, I didn't know it was still in place. That's why we're trying things, right?"  
  
She leaned in to kiss his forehead. "Right. Don't worry, I won't do it again".  
  
"See, but that's the kicker. I _want_ you to. When I said I wanted to take it for you - I don't know, maybe part of that was conditioning, but it felt...different? Let's say I never said that to any of them".  
  
That slayed her. James Buchanan Barnes, trying to make her feel _special_ among all those he had slept with, telling her all the things she so badly needed to hear. He took her hand, and guided it between his legs. She could feel that he was rock-hard again, and she wrapped her fingers around the shaft, stroking it gently until she was rewarded with a soft moan.  
  
"See, I'm not lying," he managed to say as he writhed underneath her touch,"maybe it's all messed up...maybe _I'm_ all messed up but I...I... _please_.  
  
She kissed him hungrily and he returned his kisses with fervor, like it was their last day on earth, like their lives depended on it. She guided him inside her, and she tried not to think about how tricky all of this was - because how could any of this be wrong if it felt so right when they were together?  
  
She wrapped her legs around him, and he slipped his hand under what was left of her shirt, cupping her breast and teasing the nipple. She grabbed hold of the bedpost and guided the movement of his hips in time with hers. The bed creaked under them unhappily and he fucked into her like a desperate man.  
  
"You want to...tell me more?" she asked, barely managing to piece the words together. He gently bit her bottom lip and she whined into the kiss that followed.  
  
"You're crazy, you know that?" His hands were on her hips now, sliding under her buttocks from there, lifting her up slightly as he fucked her. "Please never stop."  
  
She squeezed him between her thighs, finding leverage on the bed, and flipped them both over, landing on top of him again. He was still inside her, and made no move to stop her when she grabbed his wrists, both metal and flesh, lifted them above his head and pushed them into the mattress.  
  
"Hmm, so you're going to take it for me, sweetheart?" she asked.  
  
"Yes," he said as he looked up at her. "Anything you want."  
  
It made her feel powerful and weak at the same time. She knew right now she really could do anything...not because of triggers or conditioning, but because he trusted her, because of how he felt for her. He was still meeting her gaze, no longer avoiding her eyes as he had done before, and it was almost too much for her to bear. All of this was so damn fragile.  
  
"Pierce liked to fuck me on my back," he said. "Because he liked seeing my face when it hurt." She saw him look away for just a second, blinking back tears. His fingers curled in on themselves, fists balled but powerless against those who had hurt him. Then he looked back up at her, defiant. "He liked making me come, because it made him feel powerful." There was anger in those words, too, and it was strange because this type of anger looked good on him, burning bright in his eyes, but harmless towards her.  
  
He pulled his wrists free from her grip, and it almost made her topple, but he steadied her instantly, grabbing her by the hips, and he grinded his own and fucked into her from beneath her. "You know what, Natasha? _Screw_ Alexander Pierce. May he rot in hell. Come for me...for _me._ He left his metal hand on her hip, finding het clit with the warm fingers of the other, and she gasped as he teased it gently. She almost came right then and there, but she wanted to draw it out a little more, having a few more moments of him inside her. She rode him and he fucked into her steadily, his face flushed, skin glistening with sweat from the effort.  
  
"My Natasha," he whispered, and with that she came, more loudly than she expected. He must have been holding off himself, because she felt him coming inside her while she was still riding the waves of her orgasm.  
  
He pulled her to his chest, wrapping his arms around her, waiting until their breathing grew steady again. She could hear his heart beating in her chest, strained by the effort.  
  
"I love you, you know." she finally said.  
  
"I know. Still can't quite believe it, but I know. Not as much as I love you, though.  
  
"Can't tell if you're being sappy or trying to show off," she grinned.  
  
"Maybe a bit of both," he said. Then, more seriously: "Thank you for this. Thanks for putting up with all of this mess because most people would already have ran far, far away".  
  
She shrugged. "Hey, I got an orgasm out of it, I'm not complaining."  
  
"Natasha...I'm serious."  
  
"Did it help...at least?"  
  
It was his turn to shrug."Lord knows. This isn't exactly approved therapy. But...I think I might be able to talk to you about it now. You know, even without the sex. If you're still willing to hear."  
  
"Always," she said and she kissed him. "Whenever you're ready."  
  
She already knew that was going to hurt like hell, but she wouldn't tell him, because that might make him doubt. She was strangely okay with the idea now. When she imagined it in her mind's eye, it no longer scared her as much as it did when she first found out. She knew he wasn't going to break, and neither was she. Yeah, there might be tears, but that was okay, too. She'd make them tea, and they'd sit on the couch, huddled in a blanket together. She'd hold his hand, or rest her head on his shoulder, or he'd rest his head on hers, and he'd tell her the stories and she'd listen. It would almost be normal, or as close as it came to that for them. In a strange way, she was even looking forward to it now.  
  
"What are you thinking about?" he asked.  
  
"The future," she said.  
  
He smiled and he kissed her. "You know, I always did like thinking about the future. Though I'm really disappointed we still don't have flying cars." She grabbed a pillow and she smacked him with it playfully. "Oh my God, you're such a _nerd_."  
  
He tickled her and she actually squealed. "I _know_. You have terrible taste in men, Romanoff." He looked so happy now, just lying here in bed with her, and she loved him more now than ever before.  
  
"I think my taste in men in just fine, Barnes" she said - and perhaps, she thought, those were some of the truest words she had ever spoken.  
  
"C'mere," he said, and he kissed her again, and she never wanted him to stop.


End file.
